Horizon
by kateeveryday
Summary: The wizarding world tries to move on after the second war. Fred Weasley main character. R&R.


Each day dawned a little bit darker than the last, without his knowledge of why. Each day carried a heavier weight, a little more poundage on his shoulders.

Fred Weasley stabbed his cigarette out on the concrete railing next to him, and flicked it off into the wind. He wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. He could vaguely detect the Burrow' smell drifting up from it, but he pushed the thought aside. No need to dwell on things that didn't exist anymore.

He made his way down Diagon Alley, his numb fingers shoved into his pockets. People shoved their way through the streets, quiet and somber. The air felt ominous. Ever since He had returned, people never made a point to smile. There was no reason. He was surrounded by unhappy faces and lines formed by permanent frowns. He had a few of his own.

Parents gripped tightly onto children's tiny hands. Children who didn't play or laugh or even cry. They could sense that something was wrong, but no one wanted to tell them what it actually was. So they drifted into the background, a forgotten memory of happier times.

The whole world was gray.

Fred pulled open the door of the shop that he owned with his twin brother, George. As usual, there were no customers. No one wanted to laugh anymore.

"G'day, Fred." George looked up from the looming pile of bills; every day it grew. His brother had his own set of frown lines, and his blue eyes seemed duller. Seeing someone die did that to people.

Fred peeled off his coat and scarf and dropped them behind the counter. "Anyone come in yet?"

"Nope." George said. "Just been tackling these bills."

Fred joined his brother behind the counter. "Bleak day."

"Aren't they all?" Fred nodded in agreement. He picked up a box of Fizzing Whizbees and started stocking the shelves, even though they were in no danger of being under-stocked.

The bell over the door tinkled, and both brothers looked up hopefully. A shaggy red head came through the door, followed by long arms and gangly legs.

"Ron." George nodded at his younger brother.

"Hey." Ron replied. He walked over to the counter and dropped his jacket next to Fred's. "Business booming?"

Fred snickered. "Absolutely, yes. We're having to fight off customers in a mad rush to buy Ice Mice."

Ron has taken to coming into the shop everyday. Now that he lived a lot loser, he would just show up unannounced. Fred figured it was because he was lonely. After all, wasn't everyone?

"How's Harry?" George asked. Fred threw him a look.

Ron sighed. "He ate a little porridge this morning, but that's about it. He doesn't move from his spot in front of the fireplace. It's right hot in that house, but you know we have to keep it going. Harry likes it that way."

They had all changed, Fred thought. Harry hadn't spoken since the Attack. Ron had stopped playing Quidditch, and the twins had stopped cracking jokes. Were things ever going to get back to normal?

"I saw Lupin yesterday." Ron said. He watched a spider scuttle over the floorboards. He was no longer afraid of them. That fear seemed so...petty.

"Oh yeah?" Fred asked. "What'd he say?"

"Hermione's parents decided to move to the States. They don't want to be here...with so many memories." Ron looked out the window, and Fred watched his younger brother. He knew how deeply it had hurt Ron to lose Hermione. He himself missed her gentle scolding.

"Can't say I blame them." George said, shuffling bills into a neater stack. "It's not very happy here."

"Do you think we'll ever get back to normal?" Ron echoed Fred's sentiments. He looked into his older brother's eyes, searching for any glimpse of hope. He found none.

"Don't know." Fred moved to the door and watched the crowd from behind the glass. A cap blew off of a little girl's head, exposing her shining blonde hair. Her mother grabbed the cap and jammed it back onto her head, hiding the golden locks, the hint of color in the dreary world. "We've all forgotten what it means to be happy. It's like we're all waiting for something, anything to pull us out of this...this nightmare. And it's not coming.

----------------------- 

Night seemed to come earlier, as if it was in a rush to cover the light of day. George had gone home early and left Fred to close up.

Tightening his scarf around his neck, Fred pulled the door closed behind him and slipped the key into his pocket. They hadn't made any money today. That was a new record. None at all.

He set off into the night, jacket pulled closed to fight off the wind. His eyes watered from the stinging air. Thoughts swirled around his mind as he headed home. The streets were quiet and still.

Suddenly a strange sound burst through the silence. Quiet at first, it grew and grew until Fred looked up from the sidewalk where he had pointed his eyes. He cocked his head and stopped, looking around him for the source of the sound. Down the street a house stood out from the others, lights glowing and flickering inside. Fred walked closer to the house apprehensively. There it was again, louder this time. And more of it. Fred walked faster until he came upon one of the windows of the house, where he peered it. Inside, a family was joined around the fireplace, hot pumpkin juice splashing around in their mugs clutched in their hands. It was a mother, father, and a boy and a girl. And they were laughing. They were singing and laughing and dancing. Fred pressed his hands against the cold glass and watched the family.

A small butterfly danced around Fred, being rocked around in the wind. And the next morning dawned brighter than any of the others. Hope was on the horizon, and he could taste it.


End file.
